


Assets

by soupypictures



Category: Swimming RPF
Genre: Feelings, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prompt Fill, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 04:12:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/908766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soupypictures/pseuds/soupypictures
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan takes advantage of Eric’s assets, and Eric takes advantage of Ryan’s ass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Assets

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for the prompt _“So I guess maybe a fic where Ryan wants a piece of that and then he's astonished!Ryan or scared!Ryan when he actually gets what he asked for.”_ at [the ficathon](http://lyrics-soul.livejournal.com/10880.html?thread=1328512#t1328512). It was intended to be purely filth, and then something else happened.

Rome.

When they reference the last competition in _those suits_ , they won’t say, “Remember the 2009 World Championships in Rome?” It’ll just be Rome. City names take the place of meet names and it’s sort of misleading because none of them ever get to actually _see_ the city they’re visiting. Well, they don’t see anything outside of the hotel, wherever they end up eating, and the pool, that is.

But that’s enough for Ryan, most of the time, because he can do his sight-seeing at the pool. (He’s _allowed_ to, now.) While his preferences for females tend toward the softer, the curvier, his preferences for males are paraded across the deck day in and day out. They’re mostly encased in the high-tech bodysuits, which is sort of a shame for a number of reasons, but Ryan isn’t choosy. There’s something to be said for having tacit permission to finger a zipper and slide it down the teeth and help a teammate release the compression of the bodysuit.

But it’s been a problem. Especially in Rome. Because yes, compression is an issue and if the guys were honest they’d all admit to being a little embarrassed by it but it doesn’t seem to be any kind of a big deal for their breaststroker.

Because _damn_. 

Ryan wonders if the Arena suit is roomier, if he’s got an extra pair of goggles somehow nestled in there, if maybe he’s just a show-er and not a grower ... Ryan wonders a lot about Eric Shanteau’s package.

Ryan’s got to admit that it turns him on. He feels a little bad for being so shallow—literally nothing else about Eric has ever interested him—but until Rome, he hasn’t had much of a chance to even attempt to get to know Eric. 

This is how he justifies it to himself, anyway. Until Rome, until the last meet with those suits, Ryan hasn’t had a reason to get to know Eric.

\---

After eight solid days of competition (which included many hours of subtly [or not so?] admiring a certain teammate from afar and sometimes on the medal stand), Ryan is ready to celebrate his birthday. It’s not everyday you turn 25. And when Andrea asks him poolside what he plans to do for his birthday, he deflects. Somehow, he doubts _try my best to get our number one breaststroker to ream my ass with his huge dick_ will play well for the NBC audience.

He’s not even 100% sure it plays well in his own mind. Not the least of his obstacles is that he has no idea if Eric would even be down for it.

\--

Eric pulls open the door to his hotel room to see Ryan. He looks him up and down, shrugs, then says, “Sure, I’m down.”

Ryan blinks. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah, I’ll fuck you. Come on in. I’ve been checking out your ass all week.”

And Ryan can’t argue with that.

Eric offers him some water, which Ryan declines (he’s had enough of that, thank you very much), and then Eric’s unbuttoning his jeans and motioning for Ryan to do the same.

“Whoa, this is a little fast,” Ryan says, complying regardless.

“What did you expect? Did you want me to court you or something?” Eric pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it toward his suitcase. 

“Well no ...”

“Okay, so seriously. What’s the problem?”

“This just seems a little sudden. I don’t think I expected that out of you.”

“With all due respect, Ryan, I don’t think you have a lot of room to be expecting much out of me at all. Now, do you want to keep talking about this, or do you want to just _do_ it?” Eric starts to shove his jeans down his legs and Ryan gets with the program.

“Uh, yes. Let’s do this.”

Then Eric’s boxer-briefs are joining his jeans on the floor and Ryan’s mouth waters.

“Ryan?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s flattering and all, but this is going to be really difficult to accomplish if you can’t look away from my dick.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t help it.”

“I noticed.”

A beat.

“Hey, are you going to get naked or do I need to help you with that?”

“Oh, shit, yeah. I got it.” He pushes his warmups off and toes off his socks, boxers left on when Eric starts talking again.

“I’m gonna get the lube.” As Eric disappears into the bathroom, Ryan shucks his boxers and sprawls face-down on the bed. 

_This is crazy_ , he thinks to himself, pulling a pillow under his head and wrapping his arms around it. He hears Eric step back into the room so he peeks over his shoulder. Eric has himself in one hand and the lube in the other and Ryan has a brief moment of _this might be a terrible idea_ before a flash of want surges through him. He knows the answer to at least one of his burning questions. _Grower_.

“Just so you know, I’m not going to kiss you.”

Ryan smiles. “I don’t need you to kiss me.” He wiggles his ass. “I just want your dick.”

“When’s the last time you did this?”

“It’s been awhile.” Ryan thinks back. “A year, just about.”

Eric climbs onto the bed and kneels at Ryan’s side, hand skimming up the back of Ryan’s thighs and then over his ass. “Good. You’ll be nice and tight.”

Ryan scoffs. “I don’t think that would be a concern under any circumstance.”

Ryan feels Eric’s dry finger brush over his opening and shudders. “You’re probably right.” The dry finger is replaced by a wet one and it’s pressing into him before Ryan can catch his breath. Eric is, it turns out, _conversational_ as he perfunctorily preps his partner. Inappropriately conversational.

“Do you usually go for guys like me?”

 _Two_. Ryan groans, but he’s not in a position to admonish. “N-no. I just—”

“You’re curious.”

 _Three_. “Yes.”

As Eric works three of the fingers on his right hand inside Ryan, he uses his left to squeeze Ryan’s ass. “You’ve got the best ass on the team, man.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You good?”

Ryan winces. “A little more?” _This is so unsexy_. Then Eric’s left hand is sliding around to take hold of Ryan’s cock and he’s stretching him further, pressing against his prostate a little bit and _there_ it is. “Okay, okay, I’m ready.”

“You sure?”

“Fuck, just fuck me, please.” And back when it was Michael, he would have felt embarrassed to beg, but he’s grown up in the last year, right, and he has nothing to prove to Eric here, absolutely nothing.

Eric’s hands are gone and Ryan pulls himself to his knees. He hears Eric opening the condom wrapper, then the wet sound of him rolling it on with a lube-slicked hand, and then there’s pressure and—

 _Oh_.

He panics, for a moment, Eric sliding in, inch by inch, an impossibly full feeling starting to build into what he might classify as discomfort if not for the—

He must have made some kind of sound of protest, because Eric stops, a hand settling on his hip and squeezing gently. “Okay?”

Ryan whimpers. “Gimme a second,” he breathes, trying to push out of his brain what has been on his mind for a _week_ : the size of the cock now halfway in his ass. He whimpers again.

“Listen, if it’s too much—” and Eric starts to pull out—

“No! No no no. Just, ah, wait a sec.” Ryan moves his right hand down to his own cock, then back further, seeking to feel with his hand how he was being stretched around Eric. And there, that did it. He gasped, brought his hand back to the pillow, and shoved his hips back, Eric sliding in just that much more. “Okay okay.” He leans up on his elbows, back bowed, and hangs his head down between his shoulders. _This isn’t going to work_. He sighs, frustrated, and pushes at Eric’s hip. “Pull out, on your back.”

“What?” Eric asks, but he does it, settling next to Ryan. Ryan shuffles over and straddles Eric, holds himself over Eric’s dick and then guides it back into him. _Here we go_.

Ryan’s chin drops to his chest. “Yeah?” Eric asks, his hands wandering up to settle on Ryan’s hips as they lower down down down until he’s seated in Eric’s lap, panting.

“ _Jeah_ ,” Ryan says, smirking. He leans forward to brace his hands by Eric’s head and winks at the breaststroker. “I think I’ve got it now.” He eases up and pushes back down, breath catching when he’s full again. He might have lied a little before when he said he didn’t need to be kissed, because Ryan’s got kind of an oral fixation and Eric looks so good against the white hotel pillowcase and sheets, like a golden god. So he engages his mouth otherwise.

“ _God_ you are big, Eric. You feel so good,” Ryan says, rolling his hips in a way that pulls a moan from Eric’s throat. “I’ve been watching — ah! — and wondering how this would feel.” Eric thrusts up against him as he presses down and Ryan groans.

“Figures you’d need to ride me,” Eric breathes, sliding his feet up the bed to give him more leverage. 

“Oh yeah?” Ryan reaches for his own cock but Eric knocks his hand away, gripping it himself. Ryan’s hips stutter and he sits up to feel all of Eric, leans back against his thighs. 

“I knew you’d need to have some kind of control.” Eric works him fast and Ryan is almost there. “So I’m going to make you come, and then I’m going to turn you over again and fuck you through the mattress until _I_ come, alright?”

Ryan nods, uses the last of the strength in his legs to lift himself up once, twice, three more times before Eric’s hand twisting up on his cock brings him over the cliff. No sooner has Ryan come on Eric’s chest and stomach before he’s being manhandled—and that’s something that Michael could never manage to do to him—onto his stomach, Eric pressing in again and, yeah, that would be like what being fucked through the mattress would feel like.

Eric leans over Ryan’s back, driving into him at an angle that borders on too much for his oversensitive body. 

(But this is what he wanted. This is why he came to this door. Ryan doesn’t try to think too deeply about anything, let alone the _relationship_ issues he’s had in his past, or the year-long absence that’s been slowly eroding its way through his insides, a problem he keeps pushing away. Here’s here, now, his body satisfied—fuller now than he’s ever been—and Eric’s hand on the back of his neck, the other on his hip, those two points of pressured contact contrasting with the driving force of his cock—that makes him realize that he’s been trying to _forget_.)

“That’s it, come on, fuck me, Eric. Fuck me with your big cock, right there—” Ryan babbles, and Eric picks up his pace, burying himself deep and coming, plastering himself (and Ryan’s come) on Ryan’s back.

Eric pulls out and rolls off of him, disposing of the condom in the trash can by the nightstand. Ryan climbs over Eric, presses his mouth to the winged rings on his shoulder, and walks gingerly into the bathroom. He shuts the door behind him and faces himself in the mirror.

Looking back at him is a cliche. He reaches back to finger himself and feels a flush rise to the surface of his skin. He has never claimed to be adept at interpreting ulterior motives, or subconscious motivations, so it comes as an utter surprise to him that all this week he’s been after something else.

\---

Eric remains on the bed, breathing nearing normal as Ryan pulls on his boxers and his warmups. “Curiosity sated?” Ryan’s look of confusion induces an eyeroll from Eric. “Did I _satisfy_ your curiosity?”

“Among other things, yeah.”

“Was it what you were looking for?”

Ryan shrugs on his jacket and fights back his initial reaction, which is to say _No because you’re not him and as good as it felt and as much as I wanted it you couldn’t fill the space he’s left in me _. But that’s not all of it, and that’s not the part for Eric to hear, so he tells the rest of the truth.__

__“Yeah. I needed to know I was looking for someone.” The _thank you_ is in his eyes._ _

__Eric hears it. “You’re welcome. Go get some sleep and happy birthday.”_ _

__As Ryan makes his way out of the hotel room and down the hall, he makes his final decision and pulls his phone from the pocket of his jacket. There’s a text he’s read a hundred times in the last week and hasn’t returned._ _

_hey doggy, miss u._

__And that’s what he’s been looking for._ _

**Author's Note:**

> Let me just say that everything regarding shiny suit fitting is the result of sitting on the pool deck at meets, watching the men swim, and wondering aloud with my female teammates about the structural differences between male and female bodysuits. Then I saw a video (don’t ask me where to find it, it was four years ago) of Shanteau, unattached sponsorship-wise, talking about trying out different suits to see which one feels the best, is the most comfortable. I wondered ... did the Arena X-Glide (with its pornographic name) have the most room? Is that why he chose it over, say, the Jaked? So as you can see, I’ve been thinking about this particular subject for many years already, but don’t take any of these conclusions as Fact. Probably goes without saying, but with the swimming stuff I generally try to be 100% on the ball.


End file.
